Finding the Man in the Beast
by Vinetta-Venture
Summary: How did fear become caring? Caring turn to love? How did Belle get past the Beasts appearance to find the caring person he really was? This story is about looking past the exterior and finding what all happened between the Beauty and the Beast
1. Chapter 1

Bell's POV

"Ouch!" I squealed, grabbing my left pinky toe making myself hop on one foot. I bit my bottom lip, blinking back the tears that were forming in my eyes and gave my dresser a hateful glare. After a few moments the pain ebbed away from my toe and I was able to let my foot go and walk on it again. And this time when I made to leave the small bedroom, I made a wide arc around my dresser as to make sure I didn't jam any more toes. Once I cleared the doorway I let a small smile come across my face; I was going into town today.

Now this was not a normal feeling that I associated with going to town. There is nothing wrong with it; don't get me wrong. But there is not the draw to be there throughout the whole day as there was for some people. One of the reasons was that, even if it was a small town, it was always very crowded. People were always flooding on the streets, and crowding around shop windows. And that wasn't to say that the people of this town were not pleasant. Most of them were. But I do not get any delight in being jostled around on a street, or pressed against others as to see a new display in a window. I don't much care about the things in the windows anyway; but I always some way or another find myself pressed up close to the glass.

No; I don't actually enjoy the town like most girls my age. But was that wrong of me? Was it wrong of me to not want to spend my father's money on clothes and hair barrettes? I didn't need any of those things; so why would I want to buy them? I had nowhere to wear the dresses anyhow. The only occasion there was to wear some of the things the other girls bought would be at the Saturday night dance. Which I had only been to one of; besides the fact that they are held every Saturday night in the town Hall and that I adore to dance. The one night that I had gone, a couple of months ago, I had worn my best purple dress, one that used to belong to my mother, worn my long brown hair down and had arrived ready to dance. But not one of the many young men there asked me to dance. That night after I arrived home, I laid in bed at 9:30pm and stared out at the twinkling stars, wondering if there was something wrong with me. I never went to another dance.

Shaking my head I shooed off such unkind thoughts. No now it was not the time to think about such things. I again thought about my trip to town; and again it brought a smile to my face. Not because I was going to buy clothes, not because I was going to meet a young fellow, (like I had seen some of the other girl do in the alleys between shops) but because I was going to the library.

Smile still on my face I picked up my small basket that I always carried with me on my trips to town; confirmed that the book I needed to return was still in sitting inside and headed for the front door. I paused with my hand on the lock latch and slipped my black flats onto my feet. I lifted the heavy latch and pulled the door inward with a heave. We really could use a lighter door. It took effort just to get in and out of the house everyday. Though after years of using it, it was starting to get easier.

Sighing I made my way down the three steps to the packed dirt path that lead to the wider dirt road. But before I could leave I needed to tell father. I walked around the front of the house and around to the side where the door the the basement was. Opening the door I clambered down the wooden stairs; they creaked under my weight.

"Papa!? Are you down here?" I called looking around workshop. The basement which papa had converted into a workshop when we made the house. It was the same size as the rest of the house and once seemed very spacious. That was 'til daddy brought in all his equipment and started making all his different kinds of inventions.

Now he was working on a fire wood chopper. Which was what was taking up most of the room now.

"I'm under here Belle!" I heard daddy call.

I walked around to the other side of the contraption and found my father's feet sticking out from under the large Chopper. Well the name was still being worked on.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm going into town." I said over the sound of tinkering daddy was making.

The tinkering subsided for a moment. "Oh okay. Have a nice time."

"Is there anything you would like me to get while I'm out?" I asked slightly amused as I saw dad's hand reach out blindly for some tool.

"Oh no, no! I'm fine. You just have a good time." He said finally grabbing a wrench.

"Okay, I'll be back before dinner." I said before climbing up out of the basement.

Brushing off my white apron that was tied around my waist I made my way toward the dirt lane and the mile walk to town.

The walk wasn't a long one; less than half an hour. It was just past mid day, the clouds were covering the sun and there was a gentle breeze blowing, keeping the walk quite pleasant. I took my time walking, I was in no hurry and it gave me the chance to see the fall effects as August took it's place over us. The tree leaves were starting to turn orange and yellow, and there were fewer and fewer flowers left.

I stopped by the side of the road when a particular nice flower caught my eye. It had five white long peddles with red stems coming out of it's center. Smiling to myself I pick the the flower and stuck the green stem into the bun on the back of my head.

_See if any of the other girls can buy any barrette as beautiful as this!_ I thought to myself as I finished the walk.

The town, as usual was bustling with people as they went about their daily business. I walked through the town, saying a few hello's to the people I knew; such as the backer who was carrying his tray of freshly baked loaves of bread from the kitchen out behind his shop; and the older woman, Anna who sold flowers on the street corners. I was always greeted with a friendly wave or a quick hello; but never anything more. It used to bother me, everyone else I saw was stopped in the middle of the street at least twice every ten minutes or so to talk with someone. I had over heard a couple of these conversations, they talk about family or the gossip that's going around. Really if I was being honest with myself it still does bother me that no one talks to me like that. That no one bothers to ask how my father is doing. But I don't think about it. I have my father; who else could I possibly want?

The library was near the center of town, only a few buildings down from the Hall where the dances are held. The building was one of the oldest in the town; it's roof leaked in places when it rained, the doors creaked when opening them, the paint was chipping away, and one wall in the back room was close to collapsing. I could still remember the building in all it's splendor from my childhood. Back then every shelf was covered with leather bound books and there were sturdy desks with matching chairs where you could spend as much time as you wanted studying. There had been large stuffed chairs used for spending hours of reading in one sitting.

But now, less and less people used the building, very few people had any interest in reading; and the town had started spending less and less money on it. Now they figured it cost too much to pay for the repairs it needed and are just going to let it run down.

I walked into the building, a bell on the door announcing my arrival.

"Why Belle, back so soon?" Mr. Hodge asked from his desk off to the right of the doorway.

I nodded, smiling at the kind man who I had known for almost my entire life. "Yes sir! I finished the book a couple days ago; but I couldn't make it back 'til today." I said, coming up to the counter and handing the green covered book to the older man. Mr. Hodge was in his early 70's and he looked it. He had thin white hair on the top of his head, a large nose and a larger ears. He had small ears behind a pair of wire rimmed glasses.

"Well, I suppose it shouldn't surprise me anymore. You've read every book in this library twice!" He said shaking his head. Getting to his feet Mr. Hodge took the book to a shelf and slipped in back into it's place; causing a puff of dust to swirl up with the sudden motion on the shelf. "So what would you like to read next?" He asked gesturing to the shelves.

Smiling I went along the shelves, looking through the familiar titles. It was true that I had already read all these books, some more than others; but I never got bored of them. I had once heard the expression '_a book is a gift you can open again and again!'_ I think that is one of the truest things I have ever heard.

After a few minutes I found a book that I remembered liking quite a bit and slid it off the shelf, wiping some of the dust off it's cover as I went back to Mr. Hodge.

"Ah, good choice my dear." He said with an approving smile as he wrote the title and the books information in a large book that laid open on his desk. He handed it back to me. "There you are. I hope you enjoy as much as you did the first time you read it." He jotted something else down in his book before laying down his quill. "How is your father doing? Isn't getting into too much misschuf at the moment I hope." He said with a chuckle.

"No! He is not." I said laughing. "But he is trying to invent a wood chopper." And for the next ten minutes I told Mr. Hodge the details about my father's latest invention. Mr. Hodge listened with open ears and a kind smile; listening to everything that I was saying.

When I left fifteen minutes later I had a smile on my face and all thoughts of being different had gone from my mind.

I was ready to head back home, having done all I wanted to do, and seen all the people I had wanted to see; when I saw the one other place in town that I really liked. In the very center of the town there was a fountain; a large circular fountain with a statue of our founding father. Lukas Mcail. The longest book that Mr. Hodge has in his building is about that man. About how he left his own village and family to start a new people. The tale was one of a daring man who looked challenge in the eye and then beat it.

I loved that fountain. Because when I look at it, I see a man who was different. A man who saw something better than what he had, then he went out and got it. I hope to one day leave this town behind and find where I'm supposed to be. It certainly isn't here.

Smiling I took my book and went to the fountain and sat on the short wide wall that held the water in place. Once seated I pulled out the book and started from the beginning.

It was early evening by the time I emerged from the book again and looked at my surroundings. I looked up at the sky and realized how late it was and chide myself for losing track of time like that. I probably had daddy worrying to death!

Yawning I stretched out my arms out over my head, rolling my neck some, hoping to ease the aching there and in my higher back. When I looked up again I was surprised to see someone staring at me. I blinked, surely I was mistaken. But no; there was no other man who had such a stature like Gaston Trekk.

Gaston was the town's most eligible bachelor. Every girl in the town wanted to be his girl, and now that he was of marriageable age every girl wanted to be his wife. And not without good reason too. Gaston was known for his good looks, hunting skills and wealth. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a mane of black hair that he kept in a neat ponytail. In most every way he was very handsome in deed. As for his hunting, well the wall in the town's taveren I think says all you need to know. Gaston's biggest kill covers an entire wall! From moose, to bear, even panther. And as for his wealth, it came from his grandpa on his mother's side who owned quite a large portion of the town; and gave it all to his only child when he died. And though I had met Gaston Trekk only twice before, I had known him for years, seen him strutting about the place with a girl on each arm and had come to the conclusion that his looks were only skin deep. Though I believe I am the only one with this opinion of him. Even now as he eyed me from across the way, leaning against one of the wooden pillars that were out front of the pub, there were a group of three girls watching him from the pub window.

But why would he be watching me?

I knew he could have no kind of interest in me. He had made it quite clear that he thought my father crazy and that I am going to follow in his footsteps if I keep down the path I'm on. Though he did have the courtesy not to say these sort of things when I was around. But I heard the same words being whispered in small groups of people when they didn't see me walking by. So why on earth was he staring at me so? He could have nothing to possibly say to me.

Starting to feel a head ache coming on I got to my feet and started on the journey home. I really didn't care what the reason was for his sudden need to stare at me in broad day light. But I did need to get home. Daddy really was going to start worrying if I didn't hurry.

* * *

Gaston's POV

I took another deep drink from the large glass mug in front of me; trying to block out the annoying high pitched voice that was coming from the girl who was sitting next to me, who's name escaped me at the moment. Though it hardly mattered; I never needed to remember the name of whichever girl I was with. All I had to do was flash a smile and the girl wouldn't even notice the lack of the her name ever being said. They were all the same; every single one of them. And though they had their purposes, they all seemed to mesh together; none of them standing out in any significant way.

Maybe that was the problem; maybe it was time to find a new girl. But I had been with all the girls, and none of them had sparked my interest. They were all the same! How was it possible for every pretty girl in town to act, talk, and _sound_ the same?

"Oh Gaston, are you even listening to me?" I heard the girl ask; getting my attention by putting her hand on my knee.

I turned towards her and gave her my most winning smile. "Darling, you have nothing but my full attention." I said staring her in the eyes and saw with a small satisfaction that the blond smiled back, her eyes getting a sleepy look to them as she relaxed.

It was just all too easy.

After another ten minutes of listening to the girl drone on about something I excused myself; telling her that I had a lovely time and that I was sorry to cut our evening short. With a kiss on the hand I walked out of the tavern and out onto the wooded walkway. I stopped in front of the doors, not sure where to go from here. I hadn't thought that my evening with that girl would have ended so short. Now I had some time to kill, with nothing to kill it with.

I was still standing, debating what my next move should be when my eyes happened upon something, someone that caused my train of thought to come to a abrupt halt.

Beauty. Dark brown hair, pulled back into a perfect bun, leaving her features in perfect view for me to enjoy. With high cheek bones, small nose, wide blue eyes this porcelain angel was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen!

It took me a second to realize who I was looking at: Belle Ingrum. Crazy Belle. I nearly choked on air, when had she turned into this creature before me? I tried to recall the last time I had seen Belle, but the memory was hard to find; because why would I want remember something to do with Belle? Though I was sure I hadn't seen her in the past month.

Could she really have bloomed in such a short amount of time?

It appeared to be so.

I took a step forward and leaned against one of the wooden pillars that held up the awning. This certainty changed a few things. Things suddenly seemed to be looking a little brighter. Belle certently wasn't like all the other girls in town. In fact she was just plain odd.

With that I realized that I needed to take in the fact that she _was_ odd, strange even, what would this do to me? Would this put my image in any danger. Being the important person that I was I couldn't afford to associate with the wrong sort of people.

Thoughts about Belle and her father flew through my head. Different situations of them in the public, came to my memory. Conversations that I had had with Belle, few though they were came back to me. She really was an odd girl. I didn't understand how she could spend hours with her eyes glued to a book. I knew for a fact that that wasn't normal among the other young ladies. She was also very outspoken in her opinions. One of the few times I could remember seeing Belle was when she stopped a couple of young boys from harassing a younger girl in the middle of Town Square. She had walked right in the middle of the two and told the boys to leave the girl alone and go about their business elsewhere. Everyone had been complete shocked. How was it at all her place to question the boys and their doings?

Of course I would have to make sure she didn't do anything of that sort once we were together.

Even as I was starting to think this I forced myself to consider that this might nor be a good idea. I thought through all the gossip I had ever heard; some even out of my own mouth. And there was quite a bit to gossip about.

Having no mother to raise the girl right, Belle had gone wayward at a young age. Though I didn't blame Belle for the way she had been raised, it didn't change the fact that she had been left unattended to for far too long and had grown into the sort of person that people talked about in hushed tones and laughed at when they weren't looking.

No; she wasn't the sort of girl I should get involved with. She was odd; and I would be considered barmy for making any sort of attachment to her. No; I wouldn't pursue her.

Just as I decided this; Belle lifted her arms over her head, stretching, her back arching; pushing her front side out; giving me a perfect view of her chest that had been hidden behind the slightly loose blue dress she was wearing moments before.

Beauty. That she was. I reconsidered my decision. Belle was the most beautiful girl in this town, and very likely probable for all the surrounding towns as well. Besides, I could groom her into the woman that she should be; that her beauty called her to be.

I watched her as Belle dropped her arms, the dress again falling loosely around her again, and met my eyes. I kept staring at her, and her dark blue eyes looked at me with what I assumed to be interest. After a moment Belle looked away and then got to her feet; making her way down the street.

I watched her go, knowing then with certainty; Belle would be mine.

* * *

**Hello people who just read this chapter! I hope you enjoyed this! I am a HUGE fan of Beauty and the Beast and hope to not botch up this story too much. Just a few things to know about this story: It mostly follows the movie; all I'm really doing to this is changing some of the characteristics of a few people in the story. This story is mainly going to be about the time in between Belle being at the castle and falling in love with the Beast. Anywho hoped you enjoyed it! God Bless!**

**Vinetta-Venture**


	2. Chapter 2

Belle's POV

I carried the tin pail of chicken feed in one hand, another pail of oats in the other, out of the barn's storage room and headed out to the horse coral where the chickens usually were in the early mornings. Philippe neighed a welcome as I walked up to the wooden fence.

"Good morning." I cooed rubbing the beautiful Clydesdale between the eyes with my knuckles. I chuckled as I tried to pull my hand back but the horse's head followed my hand so that we never broke contact. "Come on boy," I said rubbing him a little more. "I've your breakfast! But I need my hand back to give it to you."

This time I pulled my hand back faster and Philippe settled for giving me a betrayed look instead. That is until I hooked the pail onto one of the wooden posts that held the fence up. I reached between the poles and rubbed the horse's neck as he stuck his head into the pail eagerly. "That's right, you go on and enjoy." I said softly before picking up the other pail and started spreading out the chicken feed around the ground.

It was a perfect day I noted as I empty the pail and made my way back to the storage room. The sun was just starting to rise up over the hill tops to the East and there was a light wind to keep the air from becoming stagnant. Replacing the bucket back to it's place in the small room I grabbed the larger pail filled with different vegetables and other sorts of food that papa and I weren't going to eat. I hauled the bucket to the pig pin that was a couple yards away from the horse coral. After dumping the slop in the pig's trough I put the bucket back in it's place as well.

I wiped my hands clean on my apron that was around my waist and made my way around the back of the house, where the fire wood was kept. I pulled the ax out of the ground and took one of the un-chopped logs. Setting in on its side I took a deep breath and swung the ax down with all my might. I hit the log dead center, but it didn't go all the way through. I wrenched the head back out of the log and swung again; this time the ax slid all the way through the wood. Smiling I took the two pieces and put them in the small pile of wood lined up along the wall of the house.

For the next hour and a half I did this. By the time that I was done I was covered in sweat and my back was aching. I smiled at my progress. I could remember when it had taken me two to three hours to get that chore done. I had taken over this job when I was ten years old. That's when papa had messed up his back and could no longer swing the ax. I didn't mind taking over the job; I actually preferred doing it myself then having papa do it. He wasn't exactly young when I was born, and I he wasn't getting younger. After piling up all the wood neatly, setting aside four logs, I slung the ax back into the ground and made my way inside.

It was nearly eight thirty in the morning and papa would be waking up to for work now. I walked through the back door which lead right into the kitchen and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. Sighing I walked to the stove and threw two of the logs into the bottom of the stove. After starting up the fire I pulled out a frying pan from the cupboard next to the stove and set it on top of it. While the cold stove was heating up I went back out the back door; and made my way to the ice house that was off to the right of the back door. Quickly I grabbed three eggs and walked back to the house. I was just finishing papa's last egg when the he walked into the room wearing his uniform for his job at Post Office.

"Good morning Belle." He said sounding like he could use a couple hours more of sleep.

"Good morning Papa!" I said brightly setting down his plate in front of him. I knew how much papa disliked the Post Office. He always complained that the job was dull and unimportant; and I tried to help him in his morning moods when he was thinking about having to go to work.

"This looks good." He commented as I set a wooden cup filled with water in front of him.

I just smiled and grabbing my own plate I sat across from papa on our small square table. We ate in silence; nothing unusual. We finished about the same time and I piled our dishes in the wash-bucket for me to do later.

"Well, I'll be back this evening. Have a good day." Papa said getting to his feet, grabbing his dark cloak on his way out the door.

"Bye Papa." I called as the door shut behind him.

As soon as he was gone I went outside to the well that was right outside the back door, a little to the left. Pulling the rope I hauled the bucket of water up and took the bucket inside. After dumping the water into the wash-bucket and replacing the water pail back in the well I proceeded to wash the dishes that I had dirty this morning.

When I was done I went around the house picking up a few misplaced items here and there. I only stopped when the house looked presentable again.

The rest of the day was spent in the same kind of fashion. Once I put all my cleaning things away I made my way to the barn where I then proceeded to clean out Philippe's stable; giving her fresh hay when I had finished. Then I got Philippe's brush and hoof pick and went out to the coral that he was still in. After tying him to the fence I said, "Hoof" and Philippe obediently lifted his leg for me. After cleaning each hoof I brushed him down.

When I was done I set the tools aside and patted the beautiful horse. "One of these days we're going to just leave, just the two of us." I whispered to the horse. I moved to the front of the horse, pressing my forehead to the animal's. "How does that sound to you?" I rubbed Philippe on the side of the face. "People here don't understand us. They look down on me. Philippe, I don't belong here. I sometimes feel like you are the only one I can really talk to." I sighed pulling back to look the horse in the face. "Is it sad that my best friend is someone that can't comprehend most anything that I am saying?" The horse gave me a kind of scowl. I laughed. "Don't worry; I would not trade you in for anyone." Philippe leaned in and rubbed his head against mine.

I wanted to stay here with Philippe longer, but there were still chores to be done. So with a promise to go riding later and a final pat on the neck I picked up my almost forgotten tools and headed for the barn.

When I had put everything away again I went around to the front of the house where my pride and joy was. My flower garden. If that's what you could call it. I wasn't really sure if it was big enough to be called a 'garden'. But it didn't matter to me. It was beautiful to me and I made it.

It really was rather small. It consisted in a 3 by 7 space, two rows of different kinds of flowers. Mom and I had stared it when I was four; she had stopped working at the Pub when she started having health problems and could no longer leave the house. But mom, being the kind of woman she was could not just sit around doing nothing. And that was how this garden came about. There was very little about my mother that I could remember clearly; but most of those memories I did have where about us, taking care of these flowers. Remembering the long hours momma and I had spent out here together brought a smile to my face as I knelt down in between the rows and looked around. Surely enough weeds had started sprouting again. Bending down I stared pulling up the small green things and putting them into a pile off to the side.

When I finally got to my feet again after slowly making my way down between the rows, pulling all the little weeds out, my back was really starting to ache. Putting my hand to my back I looked at my small flower area. Or course I knew they wouldn't last much longer; winter was well on it's way and my little flowers didn't stand a chance against the chill. But all the same, at the moment they were still quite beautiful. My favorite were the lilies. I had quite a few of them, in both rows. When I was younger I had wished momma had named me Lily because I loved lilies so much.

After giving myself a little rest I got some water from the well and watered both rows. I watched in fascination as small water droplets caught on peddles and leaves; as sun shone down on them, making them shine like thousands of tiny diamonds. When I brought myself out of my admiring thoughts I drew in a deep breath and headed off for my most important and unpleasent task of the day.

I made my way to the outhouse. The little wooden cubicle was in desperate need of work. Papa had bought the lumber for replacing the rotting boards that were missing, but now that he was working on his new invention he had forgotten about it. It didn't surprise me, not really. Papa had never really been bothered by this sort of thing. But now, I was going to finally do something about it. So I made my way back out to the barn and after locating the timber that Papa had bought, I started making a few trips back and forth between the barn and out house. It took me five trips to get all the things I would need. So grabbing my hammer I set to work.

I have no training in building things, but while I was growing up, when something broke, it was Papa and I who had to fix it. We didn't have money to pay a professional so the only other option was for us to do it ourselves. And my Papa being the creative man he is it came rather easily for him to figure out how things worked and how to fix things if they were broken. I had always been his little helper and he had showed me how to look for certain things and how to find out how things worked. So after taking a few moments inside and outside of the little bathroom I was pretty confident in what I thought I should do.

Most of the walls were still in working order, though I would need to switch out a few of the rotting boards with the new timber. The main problem was the roof. It was covered in mildew and was starting to cave in. So with this in mind I picked up one of the longer pieces of timber, measured it and compared the lengths with the wall. It was a perfect fit. As I started nailing the wood into place I wondered if Papa had all the measurements for the outhouse when he ordered the lumber. It would certainty make things easier.

This seemed to be the case, I thought, as I put up three more boards; finishing off the walls. When I had that down I wiped my sweaty brow and admired my work for a moment. But I still had more that I needed to do. So grabbing the ladder that I had laid on the ground with all my other tools; I leaned it up against the outhouse. Taking my hammer I climbed up the ladder and looked at the roof; I was going to have to replace the whole thing. I had already assumed this and started pulling out nails to free it from the rest of the outhouse.

Once I had a few of the nails out the roof, I grabbed the end closest to me and pulled up, I was pleased to see that I came loose rather easily. But I hadn't taken all the nails out so it started resisting about an inch off its original place.

Maybe this would be easier if I pulled it as high as I could on this side, then maybe it would loosen the nails on the other side, I thought to myself. So bracing my legs, I leaded back in the ladder, took hold of the roof with a firm grip and pushed up with all my strength. It was heavier than I thought it would have been. But I got it up; but after a couple inches it was getting really hard to move it. I pushed it a little farther, leaning farther back on the ladder; it started to shake under my feet and my hand slipped.

The roof slammed down at lightning speed now that it was free from the strain and I suddenly had a shooting pain in my left hand, I cried out and jerked away from the pain. But the sudden movement caused me to lose what little balance I had and the ladder fell sideways, taking me down with it. As I fell I screamed louder as the pain in my hand erupted.

I didn't try to stop the tears when they started to water my eyes and I looked down at my left hand. It was bloody and grotesque looking. I now had a deep gash running diagonally in my palm, blood was pulsing out of it. I cringed away from the sight.

Sucking in a deep breath I rolled myself up to a sitting position, cradling my hand to my chest. Slowly I got to my feet and looked up at the roof of the outhouse. Barely visible from this angle I could see a rusted nail sticking out of the bottom of the roof, red with my blood. It must have been pushed too far into the wood for me to see when I was taking out the rest of the nails.

Taking in long deep breaths, I made my way back into the house, careful not to jostle my hand by moving too quickly. Once inside I went to the pail in the kitchen that we always kept full in case of emergencies; like a sudden snow storm caving us in the house for days at a time. Screwing my eyes shut I thrust my hand into the pail, into the cool water. My hand stung at the sudden contact and fresh tears fell down my face.

After letting it soak for a couple minutes I pulled my hand back, the bleeding had all but stopped now, giving me a good chance to really look at it. It looked to be about a half an inch deep, starting near the base of my thumb and ending at the base of my pinky. Shuddering I looked away from the gash and I went to the wash bucket where I kept all my cleaning things. Taking a freshly washed linen I wrapped it around my hand a couple of times before tying off the two ends, though the tightness of the linen did cause me to flinch, but it was very successful in its purpose.

The cut still throbbed painfully as I got to my feet again; making a conscious effort to keep my hand by my chest. It was now around three in the afternoon, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to finish the outhouse with my hand in the condition it was in before dark. Papa would be getting home around four anyhow, and I would need super to be ready when he did.

How could I have been so dumb minded? What were we going to do if it rained tonight? Then the outhouse would really need some tended to. Feeling quite useless I went to the back door where another bucket was sitting, with a floor brush inside of it. Taking it I filled it up with water from the well; which was much harder to do this time around. I spent the next two hours scrubbing the worn wooden floors of the house.

I was still on my knees, floor brush in hand when the front door opened to reveal Papa.

"Belle I'm home." Papa called; taking off his cloak and hanging it on the hook on the coat rack behind the door.

"Hey Papa!" I said getting to my feet, dropping the floor brush in the bucket. "How was your day?" I asked rushing forward to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He shrugged. "It went well enough, though boring it was." He said with a shake of his head. After sighing Papa smiled up at me. "But let's not talk about such dull things; what have you been up to all day?" He pulled me gently by my arm, that wasn't still pressed to my chest, to the sofa in the sitting room.

"Papa, I haven't done much of anything today. I haven't even gotten super started yet!" I said realizing that I indeed hadn't even figured out what I was making.

"Belle!" Papa suddenly exclaimed, eyes wide. "What happened to your hand?" He asked looking at my bandaged hand.

I moved my hand away from my chest and turned it over. "I cut it while trying to fix the outhouse." I said looking down at my hand that was still stinging.

"Let me see it." Papa said taking my hand and starting to untie the cloth.

I winced as the cloth moved over the cut. Papa looked up at me in concern, but kept unwinding the slightly bloodied cloth. When the gash finally came into view Papa's eyes widened.

"Belle?! What happened to you?" He asked looking at my hand closely.

I tried to keep myself from gritting my teeth as pain shot into my hand as Papa examined my hand. "I was trying to finish the repairs on the outhouse and I cut myself on a nail I hadn't seen. It's okay. Really, it doesn't hurt that much." I said, though it was hurting very much at the moment. I didn't want to worry Papa.

Papa didn't acknowledge that he heard me. He just kept staring intently at my hand. His face held nothing but complete concentration.

"Papa really, I am fine." Still he stared at my hand. "I really should start on supper; or we might not get to eat tonight." I said pulling my hand gently from his grasp; trying my hardest not to wince.

Once I had my bandage again wrapped around my wound I made my way to the kitchen and started the makings of rabbit stew that both Papa and I liked quite a lot. The meal did not take long to prepare and soon enough both Papa and I were sitting at our table, both with plates of stew on our plate. The meal passed in an unusual silence. Papa didn't even look up from his plate while he ate with a far off expression on his face. I wondered what worry could be weighing so hard on his mind. Was he really just thinking about my hand? Though Papa had always been a little over protective when it came to me, I didn't think that my hand would be all that he could be thinking about to make him so concentrated on something. Papa had a hard time paying much attention to anything, unless it was one of his inventions.

When both of us had finished eating; my plate nearly empty, Papa's nearly as full as when I set it in front of him, and I was cleaning up the dishes Papa cleared his throat. "Belle, there is going to be another one of those dances tomorrow night;" He said, looking down at the table where his plate had sat before. "maybe you should go."

I nearly dropped the plate I was carrying. "What?" Even though I had not explained to Papa how horrid the last dance made me feel; he knew that I hadn't had a pleasant time. I had come home and immediately gone to my room, not coming out 'til morning. So why would he suggest such a thing?

"I said, maybe you should go. It could be good for you. You might even have a good time." He said still not looking up.

I placed the dishes I still had in my hand in the wash bucket and turned to my father. "Papa, I've been before, I didn't enjoy any part of it. Why would I want to relive any part of that experience?" I took my seat again. "Papa what is this about?"

He just shrugged. "All you seem to do is work; I thought you could use a break."

My heart warmed at his words. "Papa, I am fine. But if you want to I can take a couple days break and read. I got a new book fro-"

Papa's head snapped up and he cut off my words. "Belle, that's not what I mean! Belle you've been cooped up in this house for far too long. You need to get out and do things." He said with a sadness in his eyes that I had never seen before.

"Papa," I wasn't sure what to say. Why was he acting so strange? "Why are you saying this? Is something wrong? Did I do something?" Had I made him unhappy with something I did?

"This is not the life for a young lady!" He said getting to his feet. I had never seen him so worked up over something in my entire life. "Belle, you're supposed to have fun and do things that other girl do. You should not be shut up in this house doing chores and repairs. You are young! You should be out doing things that you like to do." He said looking sadly at me.

I stood in stunned silence as Papa dropped his gaze. "No young lady should have that kind of permeate marking on any part of their body." He said looking ashamed. "And it's all my doings; I should have fixed up that outhouse long ago." He paused and shuffled his feet. "Belle I might not have been the best parent; but I'll try to do better. And I think you should go to that dance." He said quietly.

I still couldn't find my voice; Papa looked up at me for a moment before he looked back down and made his way toward his room.

Feeling numb I slumped down into one of the wooden chairs that was sitting on the side of the table. What had just happened?

I spent the rest of the night in a sort of daze. Still shocked at how Papa had reacted to my cut. And though I had questions swarming around in my head, there was one that was more persistence then the rest. Was I going to go to the dance? I had no desire to go; but Papa, well, did. Even if I didn't know or understand why, he wanted me to go. I thought about dressing up again, making my way alone into the town wearing a fancy gown and then spending another night standing along a wall with no one around me and having people either ignore me all together, or whisper things just loud enough for me to hear them. People could be truly cruel when trying.

I my thoughts continued to swarm around the subject of tomorrow night as I heated up water for my bath, that I was in desperate need of. Even as I slipped into the warm water, that felt wonderful to my sore body, my thoughts wouldn't leave me.

When I finally fell asleep I dreamed about how the dance would go. I was surround in the middle of the Hall, people's faces that I didn't recognize laughing and pointing at me. I woke up with a start the next morning almost feeling even more tired than when I had gone to sleep.

After making Papa's breakfast we ate in silence, and I couldn't help but worry about what he was thinking. Had he been as plagued as I was all last night with questions of his own? Why did he suddenly feel the need for me to associate with other people?

When Papa had finished eating, well finished pushing his food around on his plate, he got to his feet, grabbed his cloak and was almost to the door when he turned to me. "Are you going to go tonight?" He asked looking down at a space on the floor between us.

My mind raced when he asked the question. I went through every argument I could think of. Taking in all the facts and came to my conclusion. Even though I didn't really like the answer, I knew I had made the right decision. I nodded my head. "Yes, I think I will." I replied.

Papa looked up at me with hopeful eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. I nodded happily. "Belle I think you'll have a good time. Doing something different every once in a while is good for you." He said, and nodding to himself as he made his way out the front door.

I sighed. "Oh Papa;" Even if I didn't understand why, I knew that Papa thought it was a good idea to get out of the house and go to this dance; and even though I disagreed with him on it, I would do it for him. It was only one night, I could handle that.

Sighing once more I walked slowly to my room, swinging my arms by my side as I went. Upon entering my room I walked to the far wall where my small bed was set against the wall, a large wooden chest at the foot of it. Kneeling down I lifted the heavy lid of the dark oak chest, the natural smell of the wood filling my nose. Leaning the lid against the foot of my bed I leaned forward and started sifting through the different things that had been piled into the chest throughout the years. Papa had gotten the chest made for me when momma had gotten pregnant with me and they had started slowly filling it with things I would need when I was born. Because we were never rich it took a few months before they had everything they would need. Then as I got older we gave the clothes I grew out of to the neighbors who were pregnant, doing the same with the toys only keeping the most sentimental things in the chest. I had my favorite books I had gotten for different birthdays in here, small trinkets I had gathered through the years; and the two dresses momma owned. Which is what I was searching for now.

After sifting through the chest, pausing to look fondly at cretin items as the memories came back to me, my hand landed on a silk material. Smiling to myself I pulled the blue fabric out of the chest; careful not to snag any part of it on anything. I held the beautiful dress out at arm's length to look it over. It wasn't a complicated dress, made out of blue silk it had a wide rounded neck, the traps laying on the shoulders; the sleeves were long, a cut in the middle of the sleeve from the shoulder down to the end of the arm, so they hung loosely around my arms. It was tighten directly under my bosom by darker blue sash that tied in a bow on my back, before falling to the tops of my feet. There was a small design sown into the top, above the sash, with a subtle gold, making the dress a simple beauty.

I had only ever worn the dress once before; though only to see if it would fit. I could remember years of a younger me as I dreamed of one day wearing the dress. In my imaginations I was always in the Hall walking towards the center of the room, the people gathered parting as I approached them, to meet a dashing young man wearing a blue dress coat with matching waist coat, white pants and shirt, with black boots. He was always there, waiting for me, hand outstretched towards me, a smile lighting his face.

Smiling at my silly childish wishes I laid out the dress on my bed, smoothing it out so it would not wrinkle. I knew better than to think about such things now. I knew now things did not just happen because of wishful thinking. Nothing came about unless you made it, worked for it.

After lying out the dress I walked out of the room and cleaned the little there was to clean in the kitchen before making my way outside to start on my chores. I went through my daily routine, feeding, cleaning, washing; nothing out of the ordinary; though it did take me longer than normal to finish with everything since I was trying to be careful with my left hand still hurt. Once I had finished cleaning out of the stables I walked up to Philippe and patted his neck.

"How does I nice little ride sound to you? Huh boy?" I asked, laughing as he pushed me gently with his nose.

Strapping the bridle around Philippe's head I pulled his towards the stable, where I saddled him up. Then after switching into my riding shoes, which I kept in a little box by the saddles and other horse equipment, I lead Philippe out of the barn and faced him toward the open pasture behind my house that stretched out for miles. I swung myself up onto Philippe. Taking the reins in one hand I rubbed the large horse's neck. "Are you ready big boy?" I tapped Philippe with my heels, as soon as I touched him he started off in a trot.

We rode at this pace for a long time, the wind played with my hair as it floated behind me. The sun was high in the sky by now, and morning dew had dried, leaving the grass to shift easily with the breeze, along with the few flowers that were left. I watched the scenery as it past me by, my thought revolving around what might be past this valley. I had heard many stories of places that were miles away from here with so many different and wild things to see I some times didn't believe what I was being told! But even if some of the stories were preposterous, others were beautiful tales of snow covered mountains and raging waterfalls. Hearing about these things over and over again by the people who passed through the town, made me want to leave this small place even more. I wanted to find my place in the world.

After a while, we reached a small group of trees, about six in all that provided a nice bit of shade, I pulled Philippe to a stop and slid down out of the saddle. Leading Philippe by the reins I took us under the tree's limbs and sat down at the base of one of the larger trunks; letting go of Philippe so he could graze freely. I leaned my head back against the barked tree, my restless night finally catching up to me, and let my eyes flutter close.

I jerked away from the cold wet thing that touched my face; my eyes flying open to see a large horse nose. I bit back a yelp of surprise and looked up at Philippe's eyes. If he were human I would have sworn he was telling me to get up and hurry with it. Feeling a little light headed I looked around, wondering why it was that a horse was waking me up, and saw that I was sitting in a field, leaning against a tree. The memories came back a moment later and I laughed at myself. How could I have dosed off sitting upright; on the ground no less!

Yawning I stretched my hands out over my head. I slowly got to my feet and rubbed my loyal horse between the eyes. "You're such a good boy. You didn't leave me." I yawned again and wiped my eyes. I needed to be awake for the dance tonight, it wouldn't be a good thing if I-

I froze in mid motion, mid thought, the dance. I looked up at the sun and it clicked in my head how late it really was. _Oh no!_ I hadn't just dosed off, I had slept for a good three hours! And I was going to be late if I didn't hurry!

As quickly as I could I clambered up onto Philippe; he seemed to feel my anxiousness, because the second I was seated in the saddle he took off in a gallop.

Philippe was breathing rapidly when the house finally came into view. I ran him all the way back into the barn; leaving him fully saddled and rushing into the house. I hurried into my room where I washed myself in wash basin, wiping off the grime I had from the day's work before going to the bed and slipping on Momma's dress. When I finally had the dress on I let myself slow down; now that I knew I wasn't going to be running late.

The dress fit perfectly. I looked at myself in the small mirror that hung above my wash stand; my cheeks were still pink from the wind beating against my face on the ride back, my hair was gathered at the back of my head with a gold colored clip. It had been a while since I had worn a gown, and the last time I had, I had been ignored and laughed at. And though I did not see myself as pretty in any way I thought that the dress was beautiful and deserved not to be laughed at. I hoped that tonight I would do it justice. Taking a deep breath I gathered up my courage and walked out of the safety of my room. My stomach was in complete knots when I stepped into the sitting room, where Papa was sitting, holding some small piece of metal.

He looked up when I entered the room, his hands stilling and his mouth falling open. I wasn't sure what to make of my father's expression as he got to his feet and made his way toward me. When he stood before me, he took each on my hands in his. "Belle, you look just like your mother." He said softly, his voice gruff.

I couldn't help the small smile at his high praise. I had very few memories of momma, she had died when I was five years old, but in everything that I could remember about her I always remembered her as beautiful. And though I didn't think I measured up to her beauty at all, it was nice to hear that I resembled her at least some. "Thank you Papa."

He nodded and kissed me on the forehead. "Have a nice evening." He said, walking me to the door and opening it for me.

I smiled for him and nodded; though thinking in my head how very unlikely that was.

**Hello peoples! I know there was a big gap between the two chapters and I'm sorry; my life is kind of crazy at the moment. But anywho I hope you enjoy the chapter and I would love to know what you think so please REVIEW and I will gladly look over your observations. God Bless!**

**Vinetta-Venture**


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